Redundancy
by Swissed Toast
Summary: It's hilariously ironic, really. I killed myself to escape one hell and found myself stuck right into another. Self Insert.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I have way too many plot bunnies . . .**

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

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><p><em>Redundancy (n) - \ri -dun - dun(t) - si - a word, phrase, etc., that repeats something else and is therefor unnecessary._

_an act or instance of needless repetition._

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><p>I was perfect.<p>

Before I died, that is. Before my death I was the best. At sixteen years old, I was my parents key to success - at sixteen years old, I was already graduating; two entire years of school I skipped over simply for my parent's expectations. I was the valedictorian of my class, I was finishing up not only AP Physics but AP Biology, and on top of it all I was shooting for my Diploma B in piano.

For hours at a time I would sit at my desk, scribbling through Calculus BC problems and memorizing things from my textbook in preparation for whatever test happened to be coming in Chinese school.

I was perfect. My SAT and ACT scores scores just a few points short of perfect, at 2350 and 34 respectively. Most people would've been proud - no, _ecstatic_ over such scores. Me? Well, I had _cried_ over it.

Growing up, I was told that I would be perfect. I scored 100's on almost all my tests, and when I got anything lower I locked myself away and studied ever harder.

Less than perfect scores had broken me. I had cried, I had hyperventilated, and I studied and studied again.

It wasn't ever good enough for my parents, of course. When I informed them that I - the _sixteen year old girl_ with a 5.0 gpa - was the one chosen to give the valedictorian speech for my graduation they hadn't congratulated me. They hadn't said 'good job' or 'I'm so proud of you', but rather 'don't mess up'.

I was a model student, and people respected me. A teachers pet, friends with all the principles and vice principles . . . no one ever noticed that I was overwhelmed, overworked, and over stressed.

And yet, my parents had the _gall_ - the sheer nerve to be _surprised_ when they found me passed out and unconscious in my room, with pills scattered around my body and bloody blades resting limp in my hand.

That was the day I died, and that was the day that I watched my parents trash talk me to family about the selfish act that I chose to take. That was the day that I went from Amy Lee, the sixteen year old graduate accepted into Harvard, to the teenage girl with so much potential that killed herself.

The strange thing about dying, though, is that you don't even realize it at first. For the few days afterwards I didn't 'pass on' or 'meet my maker' like so many people claimed. I hung around my house, watching my parents grieve and email my college and recall my enrollment. I watched them talk to the media and neighbors, putting my name on a pedestal and speaking as if they never expected such a thing from their prize daughter.

They spoke as if they never heard me crying in my room at three in the morning from too much homework, as if they never came into my room at six thirty to wake me up and found me still studying and working on my schoolwork I had sat down to start on at seven PM the previous day.

They spoke like I never asked them to bring me to the psychologist because of my depression and suicidal thoughts.

After all this unraveled . . . _that_ was when I finally 'moved on'. As I watched with blurry eyes stained by tears, the world began to fade into white and disappear. I began to disappear. The world started to crush me and my bones snapped into a thousand pieces. I was compressed, pushed, pulled, and then encased in cold air.

Then I was standing in a crowd of blank faces with a chipped mask covering my own. Bumped around like a nobody; just one of millions in the crowd of the dead. All that matters is that you're dead, and those faceless people can see through you. They can see your death.

The mask has no holes, but I can see through it. This world is black and white and all shades of grey in between. There is no colour, but I'm not surprised. Colour is not real. It is simply how humans and animals perceive the light waves that we can observe in the world. Just like noise doesn't truly exist but rather it is a way the human brain perceives sound waves.

The faceless are terrifying, but I can't let myself feel scared. Some are spotless. They must've died in their sleep, or from poison. Others are missing limbs. Missing half their body. Bleeding out of wounds.

I can see why they have no faces now.

I walk for an eternity, but my legs don't grow tired. I don't acknowledge those around me and they don't acknowledge me. Some go the same way as me, while others go opposite. No one is walking to the sides. Only forward or back. A boy bumps into me but I don't turn. There is a bloody wound on the back of his head.

I want to think about my life; the people I left behind, but there is a wall that stops me. When I try to walk around it I find it extends endlessly. I cannot pass it. I cannot break it. There are things in front of the wall, with me, that I can recall, but behind it is gone. A chunk of my life is gone and the further I walk, the thicker the wall grows. I continue to forget.

When the wall has pushed me to an edge, I reach a door. It stands by itself in a field of white and I stand behind a person. There is a long line and I am in the back of it. People are following behind me. The line grows.

No one comes out of the door after coming in. When everyone else in front of me has gone, I step into the door.

It slams shut and the room is dark. I stand still until two small pairs of hands wrap around my wrists and pull me forward.

When the lights flicker on I'm in another room and a man in beautiful clothes stands before me.

One look and the man says, "855103061AMY - correct?" I stare at him. He continues, "Your name - Amy?" I nod.

"You're wondering what the numbers mean?" I nod again. He sighs before telling me, "'855103' is the code for suicide. '061' is the code for overdose."

"I slit my wrists," I correct him.

He stares at me, "And took a variety of pills. That is what killed you, kid, not slitting your wrists. You don't remember it, but you were found you before you bled out. By the time you got to the hospital, the pills had already entered your bloodstream. They patched up the cuts but couldn't get that out."

I nod slowly and he motions at a chair. "Sit."

When I'm settled into the chair, he speaks again, "I'll make this quick, since you don't seem very interested in what I have to say." He leans forward and balances his chin in his hand, "You may have killed yourself - which, in any religious eyes is a sin that'll send you straight to hell - but otherwise you lead a good life. Boring, but still good. You obeyed your parents, kept your virginity, and went to church. Didn't steal, didn't try to kill anyone . . ."

He leans back. "The list could go on. The way it all works is you get reborn if you don't get sent to hell. You keep getting reborn until you either; 1. Die and wake up in hell, or 2. Reach a level of perfection that leads you to heaven," His face twists into something odd. "If you get to heaven, you end up in a position like I have. Sending poor saps like you back into the universe."

I just nod. My head is heavy and I want to go to sleep. I wonder how long it'll take me to reach one of those two endings. I wonder how many rebirths I've had . . . obviously not enough to get me out of the stupid cycle.

"Now, I'm not supposed to do this - " I frown, "but when you walked through that door there I got hit with the details of your old life, and I feel _bad_ for you. So, I'm going to let you chose - "

"Chose what?" I finally ask. His eyebrows shoot up.

"Now it speaks," he crosses one leg over the other, "well; usually, when you're sent back into the world, we just pick a random opening in the available places." He stretches his arms above his head, looking bored. "But your last life was just so _boring_ that I'm going to let you chose what kind of life you want this time."

I tap my fingers on my legs, ". . . Kind of life?"

"Adventure, hardworking boring, - those kind of things. Different worlds give you different lives. Each world has different rules for what is considered a sin, and what isn't. The worlds with stricter boundaries are more boring than the ones with loose boundaries."

"I - . . . I see . . . "

This is . . . a lot to take in. I had hoped that I would just wake up on a cloud and have God congratulate me for my accomplishments. Instead, I have to relive another life and try not to muck it up.

He's saying something to me, but I'm not listening. My nails are digging into my legs. A new life, a new chance; I need something . . . that I can live fully through.

"Adventure," I murmur. From the weird look I get, I must've interrupted him and I duck my head. I'm glad the mask covers my face.

That was when I was born into this world - into a world that might not be any better than the one I left.

Konohagakure. The village hidden in the leaves, the hidden leaf village - whatever the hell you want to call it.

It's funny, really. I killed myself to get _away _from the stress and horrors of my life, and instead found myself reborn into an even worse situation than I left.

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><p>Unlike so many people may believe, I barely remember my infant years. My clearest memory as this new person - Kinuta - is early yes, but not at three or four weeks like so many people. The earliest memory has to be at around two months or so, and it isn't of my mother or father.<p>

No, it is of another person - my big brother. He leans over the crib with a curious expression painted across his face. His brown hair falls freely over his eyes and when I blink lazily at him, he gives me a lazy grin in return.

"Kinuta," he coos between the thing in his mouth. It looks like a large toothpick. "It's nice to meet you."

I wave my hands up at him and let out a gurgle of delight. _My big brother._ He's all mine. I had been an only child in my last life and I always wanted an older brother.

After that, though, the days blur into a huge mess. It isn't until about a month before my second birthday when I start consistently forming memories. Ironically, the first clear memory, besides that one with my big brother, is one of my most horrifying ones.

October 10 - A.K.A, the day that the Kyuubi - the _Nine Tailed Fox _- attacks.

Of course I don't know that it's the Kyuubi - no, it isn't until a day or two after the entire experience that I even learn that I'm not on Earth anymore. My memories of the place between this life and my last life is so foggy that I barely remember it happening. I don't think that I'm supposed to remember any of that, much less my old life. The dude must've screwed up somewhere.

The Chakra is terrifying, let me tell you. It slips down my throat as I quiver in my bed, and begins to _choke me_ and snap my lungs. I can't even scream, because I'm just so afraid that if I do it'll come in and kill me for real.

The house begins to collapse, yet I can't move. I don't try to roll out of my bed or toddle out of the room for an escape, because I'm so _afraid_ that I actually forget that I'm a human being with legs and muscles to move around with.

No one is around. I know I have a mother and an older brother, but I don't see - or feel - them anywhere nearby. I haven't seen my brother in a good week and I haven't even seen my father's face before. I just know he exists, because mum talks about him a lot.

It had just been me and mum recently. We had been planning to go dress shopping tomorrow. I had been rambling nonstop about the trip since big brother left and just this morning I had bounced into the kitchen and clung to my mother's leg, begging to go a day early and pick out the bright green and red dress I had seen on display.

She had simply laughed at me before picking me up in her arms and setting me on the counter. Instead of offering a response to my begging she just handed me a knife - who gives a knife to a one year old who can barely hold silverware without fumbling? - and helped me cut up the vegetables for breakfast.

That seems so far away now - it feels like it has been years since this morning.

"Kinuta!" Mother rushes in, dressed in ninja gear. I don't even realize what it is. When she sees me motionless, she lets out a horrified sob and rushes over, gathering me into her arms. I still lay there, quivering so badly and barely breathing that I don't even realize she's holding me until I hear her scream and I tumble out of her arms to the floor. My head cracks into the floor and effectively snaps me out of my horrified daze, as if it was pulling me out of a dream. I watch in terror as my mother struggles underneath a heavy beam of wood, her fingers trembling. There's a sickening crack as she moves, and with blood beginning to slip from the corner of her lips, my mother whispers to me, "Kinuta, go - out."

I tremble at the pure pain and fear in her voice. I don't know nearly a good amount of Japanese to understand complex sentences, but I've learned some words and am able to identify them in a sentence. Me and mum had been working on my understanding a lot more lately. She had been reading to me not even three hours ago, and now, now . . .

"Muma, muma - " I'm sobbing. This body has the emotions of a child, so of course I'm going to start to cry. "Muma - !"

"Go!" My mother screams at me, before another beam falls on her and makes her cry out in agony as another crack comes from her collapsed form. With trembling legs, I stand up and watch as the life fades from my mother's eyes. I barely am able to avoid spewing the vomit that climbs to my throat as I turn and force all the energy I have left in my legs.

I run.

Still clumsy on my feet, I trip down the stairs and scream as my head smacks into the floor again. Starting to cry, I crawl towards the door weakly with cuts and scrapes running up my legs and arms. I try to get up to my feet but my legs are bruised and it hurts to move. Around me, things are still falling, making me flinch with each sound. One smacks down right in front of me and I burst into more tears, curling into a ball.

I'm going to die again. I haven't even reached my second birthday, and yet I'm already going to die.

I don't know what is happening. Someone drops down beside me and whispers calming words as they lift me into their arms. Too terrified to move, I lay against their chest and watch with bleary eyes as the world rushes around me. Weakly, I remember the dying body of my mother and croak out a sad, "Mummy . . . " before more tears fall down my scratched face.

The arms around me tighten. The world continues to rush away and I shut my eyes trying to block out everything.

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><p>"Hi sweetheart," I look up tiredly from the hospital bed I'm in. It's teeny, to accommodate my toddler sized body, but the sheets still cocoon around me. The woman in front of me has curly black hair and red - yes, <em>red<em> - eyes that stare into my own, strangely coloured orange ones. She can't be older than sixteen.

The colour of my eyes had been a surprise to find out. The first time I saw them I started screaming bloody murder. I must've scared the living hell out of my mother because she rushed into the bathroom with a kunai in hand only to find me standing with a horrified expression on the large stool I used to brush my teeth.

My mother and brother have plain brown eyes. I've yet to figure out why mine aren't brown like theirs.

"Hi," I whisper, sniffling. The lady is wearing bandages all across her body - did she get injured in the earthquake too? She must have.

I think it was an earthquake at least. Why else would the house be falling apart?

She sits down on the side of the bed and I scooch back, curling back against the headboard of the hospital bed. I ask the question that has been plaguing my mind for hours now, despite already knowing the answer to it. "Muma OK?"

Her face twists. "No - . . . darling, I'm sorry," my heart goes cold. I was expecting this. "Your mother - . . . she didn't make it, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

Without any real controls, I sniffle as tears form in my eyes. Silently I curse my one year old body for being such a cry baby. The woman watches from her spot, unsure of what to do to comfort me.

"Daddy?" I whisper, trying to hold in my tears. "Brother?"

Her face grows even more uncomfortable. "Your dad - . . . he hasn't been seen in a long time, sweetie." I choke and curl my arms around myself. I'm an orphan, then? "And your brother - well, he's still on his mission. He should be back soon - the Hokage has sent out a messenger bird to bring him back."

She speaks fast and in complex sentences that my infant brain can't comprehend, but I manage to pick out familiar sounding words - Hokage being the most obvious of them. I'm too distressed to mull over the word.

"W - Want brother," I whine, cupping my hands over my ears. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, rocking forward and leaning my head into my knees. "Brother - . . . brother . . . "

I don't know my brother's name, as sad as it is. He's just always been 'brother'. He played with me as a baby and would hold my hands when I tried to hobble across the room on my chubby legs. He had read me books that I didn't understand, and I had been closer to him than mother despite the fact that he was gone a lot.

The lady squirms awkwardly in front of me before folding her hands in her lap and letting out a breath. "He'll be here soon, darling."

"W - What . . . he might be bye bye too?" I whisper, feeling a rush of cold fear. My sentence, despite the childish words and set up, convey my question; what if brother doesn't come back; what'll happen?

The question takes her off guard. She seems to struggle for an answer. In the end, I don't get one, but I know the answer. If he doesn't come back, then I'll be an orphan. I'll probably be sent to an orphanage unless I have some remaining family to stay with.

But seeing as I never saw anyone except for my parents and brother so far - and _maybe _some of my brother's friends -, I doubt that there is anyone. I haven't seen anyone who might resemble family.

I try to whisk those thoughts away from me. They make me feel ill.

"W're you?" I whisper, lowering my hands from my ears. "M - Mummy said, stranger danger . . . stay away from s - st - strangers."

The woman perks up, just now realizing that she never introduced herself to me, "Oh - yes; my name is Kurenai," I freeze, "Kurenai Yuuhi. I'm a Chunin, sweetie."

I don't react at first. I _can't_ react at first. I just stare at her dumbly, before sinking into the bed and covering my face with my hands. When a larger pair tentatively press up against mine I push them away and climb completely under the covers, pulling them over my head. I squeeze my eyes shut so tightly that my head hurts, trying desperately to calm myself down.

I can feel a panic attack coming on and I don't like it. I'm shaking so badly that when Kurenai's hands press against my back I nearly jerk off the bed in my terror.

"G'way," I croak, wheezing. I clutch the sheets tighter, afraid that if I let go even the slightest bit they'll be torn away from me. "I - I - I . . . go away," I repeat the words again and again, getting more desperate with each repeat. Eventually I'm _screaming_ the words, and it must frighten Kurenai because the weight on my bed disappears and I hear a door close.

I let my grip slack on the sheets, and try to calm my breathing. I feel like throwing up, but there's nothing in my stomach to throw up. The tears won't stop coming, and I let out a fit of pitiful sobs, raising my voice to such a high pitch that I surprise myself.

Naruto. This is Naruto. That was Kurenai Yuuhi - the leader of Team Eight, the future wife - girlfriend? - of Asuma Sarutobi, and the future mother of Asuma's child. My head swirls and I feel dizzy.

This can't be real. I _can't_ be in a fictional world. I can't. It isn't possible. When I asked for adventure, back in the crossroads between my old and new life, I hadn't meant _this._ I had meant - I had . . .

I don't know what I meant. I just _know _that it wasn't this. I didn't want to be sent into a world where my life will constantly be at stake and I have to live with knowledge of the future that I can't prevent. I don't even _know_ that much about Naruto - I never really 'watched' the series; instead I had just skipped around episodes that seemed interesting. I had watched adamantly up until that one mission in the pre time skip where Lee got high off of curry or something, and after that we had moved and I lost the satellite connection.

I'm practically helpless. I _am_ helpless. The things I remember I definitely will not be able to do anything about. I'll probably be dead before I turn sixteen. If I'm lucky, I'll outlast my last life. If I'm unlucky, well . . .

I don't want to think about that.

I don't see Kurenai again. Eventually I end up worrying myself into a fit, and after promptly vomiting up pure bile I stumble out of the bed in an attempt to go to the bathroom only to face plant into the marble floor of the hospital. I wail so loudly that a hoard of nurses shoot into the room with panic written across their faces, and one of them carries me into the bathroom while I sob pitifully.

The nurse bathes me and dresses me in hospital scrubs before returning me to the room and putting me back into the bed. They attempt to give me food, but I refuse it and instead curl into the blankets and fall asleep.

The next three days I do pretty much nothing but sleep. I'm not even two years old yet and I've already hit my first depression. This life is sure shaping up to be better than the other one, isn't it?

The nurses bring me meals, but I just pick at them and ultimately consume close to nothing. I must look horrible, but I ignore that thought. I don't need to be vain - I'm _one_ for gods sake.

When I'm not sleeping, I'm trying to escape the room. The first few times I barely made it out of the room before a nurse found me and whisked me back into the room with a soft scolding for sneaking out. As soon as they leave, I'm right back out of bed and trying again. I start to get further and further away each attempt and each reprimand gets less kind until they don't even bother scolding me anymore - they just drag me back into the room and close the door with a quiet click.

I jiggle the handle and find it locked.

Wonderful.

Sulking, I make my way over to the bed and crawl back into it. What kind of hospital is this, anyways? Leaving a one year old by herself after seeing her mother die? Ninja are a lot of things, but they obviously aren't sympathetic.

After sitting in the bed for a good ten minutes I grow frustrated and stomp over to the window. I'm on the second floor, but the roof is right below my window. The window seems to be the only way out. Hopefully a dive out the window won't kill me.

Oh, who am I kidding; I'd probably die of a heart attack before I even reach the ground.

Seeing as I'm extremely short, I have to push the single chair to the window and crawl onto it to see over the window sill. With chubby hands I try to push the window open, to no avail. Either I'm too weak or the thing is locked - or both. Probably both.

Feeling frustrated beyond belief, I feel tears prick at my eyes. Eventually those tears grow in my belly and soon enough I'm full out wailing at the top of my lungs. I slump off of the chair and lean back against the wall, unable to qualm my shakes and screams.

_Pay attention to me, dammit. I'm suffering here._

Ten minutes later the door has been unlocked and I've calmed down. Worn out from my mini tantrum, I quickly fall asleep.

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><p>In the middle of probably my twentieth escape attempt I see my brother.<p>

Well, I don't actually _see him _- I crash into him.

I had laid down after a nurse brought me lunch, picking at the rice and fish enough to satisfy her into leaving. When she had, I waited a good twenty minutes in case she came back before sliding out of bed and padding over to the door. Attempting to keep the door from squeaking, I had opened it slowly, just enough so that I could get through, and no more. Yet, not even a second after I had turned to start walking away I found my head impacting with the body of another person.

It knocked me off balance, and I promptly fell backwards and slammed my head into the barely shut door of the room, sending the door wide open and me to the floor - and causing my head to smack into the tiles of the hospital room as well as the door.

A double whammy. Damn it had hurt - let's just say, I screamed loud enough to wake the dead.

After a mini panic from him, in which I had tearfully cried as a nurse checked the back of my head for any wounds, I crawled onto my big brother and clung to him like he would disappear. He just sighed and patted my back patiently as I attempted to squeeze him to death.

"Y're back," I sniffle after awhile of hiding my face in his chest. "T - Thought . . . y're gone like mum."

My brother sighs and ruffles my hair. "Sorry kiddo. Didn't mean to be gone for so long."

He puts me on the bed and I finally get a good look at him for the first time since I've been born in this stupid world. Up until now, I never had any reason to examine him in detail, and he had always been dressed in comfortable house clothes. He barely looks anything like the brother I remember with the clothes he has on now; baggy black pants, metal arm guards, and a grey flack jacket revealing his bare arms.

This good look, though, practically sends me into hysterics for the hundredth time since I arrived in the hospital.

The top of his head is covered in a headband - scarf thing, and it is tied at the front. Brown hair mares the side of his young face, curling at the base of his neck. My brother _is_ pretty young - maybe eighteen at most and definitely not any older.

On his revealed right shoulder, a red spiral tattoo sticks out like a red flag and I have to hold back a surge of vomit. _My big brother is in Anbu?_

The most obvious thing though, besides the tattoo, is the thin and pointy object hanging between his lips.

As a baby, I had assumed it to be a toothpick. My eyesight was poor and I could barely figure out what was going on - it had seemed like a logical assumption at the time.

Now though I can tell that it isn't a toothpick. Toothpicks aren't _metal,_ for one thing, nor are they longer than my hand. The edges aren't sharp either.

My bottom lip quivers, betraying my attempt to stay calm and my brother looks startled.

My brother - my _big brother -_ is Genma Shiranui.

Apparently an Anbu member on top of it all.

I'm related to a god damn canon character. You have _got to be kidding me. _This doesn't make any sense; my last name isn't 'Shiranui', is it? Mother would always use 'Nakae' when I was bad and the doctors had used 'Nakae', not 'Shiranui'. This doesn't make _any sense._

My head feels fuzzy and I lean forward and hide my face in his clothes again. I sniffle, trying to hold back my panic and anxiety that is trying to drip into my head and send me into a frenzy again.

He pulls me off of him and places me on the bed, patting my head. I curl back against the pillow and watch tearfully as he crouches down beside the bed and holds my hand in his larger one.

"You're OK now Kinuta," he reassures, mistaking my tears of panic for something else. I sniffle and nod and he goes to stand up. I stop him with a small whine. "I promise."

"Sleepy," I tell him, wiping my eyes with a chubby fist.

"Take a nap then."

My lip quivers again. I'm afraid that if I close my eyes he'll be gone again. That'll he'll be with mom in the pile of rubble and destruction I had last seen her underneath.

Genma senses my upcoming tears and ruffles my hair again. "No more crying, squirt. If your face is anything to go by, you've been doing too much of that lately." He reaches forward and pokes at the skin underneath my eyes. I grimace and bat away the offending hand.

"Wo'n leave?" I ask, yawning widely. It's obvious I've been sleeping to much while in the hospital if I'm already this tired. A sympathetic and almost sad look flickers across Genma's face.

"No, I won't leave."

I let his words ease me further into the bed and with body facing him, I allow my eyes to slip closed. Soon enough, I'm fast asleep.

* * *

><p>The next day I'm officially dismissed from the hospital. I clamber into Genma's arms as we check out of the hospital, clinging to him like a lifeline. He grunts as I wrap my arms around his neck and hang off his neck while he jumps across the roofs. The wind whips through my hair and cuts my cheeks, and I bury my face in his shoulders the entire time.<p>

We land soon and I squeak when he puts me down beside him. I wobble on my feet, disoriented from the high speeds we were moving at just now. Genma holds my hand, keeping me upright. We're in front of an apartment complex that I've never seen before, and he leads me up the stairs, taking care to walk slowly so I don't fall.

"Not home," I say when we stop in front of a door. I struggle against his grip and try to pull away from his hand. Genma slips a key into the doorway as I speak, and I ground my feet firmly when he tries to pull me inside.

"Home is destroyed," he bluntly tells me. "Remember?

My bottom lip quivers as I blink back tears. The memories of that night have been occurring every night since. It isn't unusual for me to wake up two or three times at night, drenched in sweat and with a terrible feeling of horror in my gut.

"Yeah," I clutch his hand tighter and feel my stomach twist violently, "I remember."

He hefts me up under his arm and carries me inside when I still don't move. The apartment is small, but not empty. There are some couches and a table in the living room and I can see the kitchen from my spot on one of the couches. It is fully equipped with an electric stove and rice cooker, along with some other tools I don't recognize immediately.

I'm so short that my feet don't even touch the floor when I lean off the end of the couch. When my bum is almost sliding off I can graze my toes across the floor.

"Water?" I ask, scrambling back to peer over the back of the couch and stare at my brother. He looks . . . young. How old _is _he anyways?

Remembering my manners at the last possible moment I tag on a, "Please?"

A few seconds later Genma has handed me a mug filled with water. I sip from it and notice in amusement that it is wider than my face. A bit of water drips down my chin and I wipe it away with the heel of my palm. Once I'm done I hold the mug between my thighs and look over at my big brother. He's sitting on the opposite couch and watching me with a strange look.

I feel uneasy. I squirm under his gaze, fiddling with my fingers. When he doesn't stop staring I pick up a pillow and toss it at him - that seems to catch his attention.

Before the pillow can even come close to hitting him he's caught it and I'm staring in awe. For some reason the simple act of catching a pillow has my toddler brain amazed.

Looks like I'm not even exempt from the easily amused toddler attitude.

"You' scaring me," I whine when I realize that throwing the pillow hasn't stopped his staring. Genma blinks before a sheepish expression comes to his face. The senbon in his mouth twitches. "Is m'face icky?"

His mouth opens to answer but before I can hear what he says a pillow - the pillow I threw in specific - is slammed into my face. My head snaps back and the mug between my legs titters dangerously. Little bits of water splash onto my thighs.

The pillow drops down and I poke my bottom lip out in a pout. "Mean," I accuse, crossing my arms. Genma just laughs before getting up and ruffling my hair affectionately.

"Let's get you changed," he abruptly changes the topic. He parts my knees so he can remove the mug and after he has placed it on the table hefts me to my feet. I toddle after him and latch onto his leg. When he looks down I give him a wide eye, puppy look.

"Carry me." I demand in a way that only a child could get away with. He continues to walk so I let my body flop to the ground as my hands hold onto his ankle desperately. "Carry meeeee!"

Before I can continue my barrage of 'carry me' I'm lifted by the back of my hospital gown. I let out a sound that is a strange mix between a screech and a laugh as Genma fixes me with an irritated glare.

I just give him a cheeky smile.

My brother helps me out of the hospital gown and into some old looking clothes. They're definitely boy clothes - I wonder if they're his ones from when he was my age? Why would he even have those in the first place?

"Hungry?"

I shake my head. My appetite, which was pretty nonexistent before all this happened, has gotten even smaller with my hospital stay. Mum was always scolding me for being such a picky eater but I just couldn't help it. Genma pushes me out of the room with a strange look on his face.

"Well, too bad, you're eating anyways."

All I understand is 'eating', and when I'm seated in a high up chair, with my eyes barely peaking over the top of the table, I realize it doesn't matter if I want to eat or not.

To make it easier on myself I hoist myself onto my knees and push my elbows down on the table. I use it to balance myself but the act practically sends me face first into the table.

I just pick at the bowl of food Genma gives me, leaning all my weight on my unused arm. I notice he isn't eating and give him the meanest glare I can, putting a small pout into it as well.

"Why not?" I ask. He frowns, looking confused. I wrack my brains in an attempt to formulate a more specific sentence. "Um . . . " I poke my spoon into the bowl of rice, "you don't eat?"

That makes more sense to him. He leans back in his chair and the senbon tips back with him. "Already ate." I feel like he's lying but I have no proof.

I barely manage to eat half of the rice before my stomach churns and I whimper. My spoon clatters against the edge of the bowl and I push it away, feeling ill. "No more."

"The nurses said you didn't eat at the hospital," Genma says. I blink, not understanding what he said. My confusion is evident because he lets out an annoyed huff. "Hospital," I nod, "didn't eat."

"Tummy hurt," I immediately respond. My nose scrunches up in disdain. "I . . . am scared - " I frown. That tense isn't right is it? "Um . . . was scared."

Genma seems almost pained by my how terrible my speaking skills are. He takes the remaining food to the counter and leaves it there, most likely to take care of later. Then he walks over and hefts me out of my chair and under his arm. I can't help but start to feel like a rag doll with how often he's been holding me like this.

"We're going book shopping."

The only words I understand are shopping and books, but I'm able to get the gist of it from that.

Looks like I'm not going to be illiterate for too much longer.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Project Green will take priority over this for now. I really like Genma as a character and I've wanted to write a Naruto S!I for awhile.**

**If Kinuta seems strangely inappropriate for her age I'm sorry. She never had the chance to act as a kid in her previous life so it is all sorta coming out now. Plus she doesn't know a lick of the spoken language - though kanji is different. **

**Hope you all had a good Christmas and New Years. If any of you read Project Green, that'll be updated sometime within the next two weeks.**

**Quick question - I hate using Japanese suffixes in stories (-chan,-san,-sama, etc.), with the exception of -sensei for Naruto ones. Would readers mind not having those in this story?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

* * *

><p>I've been living with Genma for two weeks, but even in such a short amount of time my speaking skills have improved, though I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I have the mentality of a seventeen year old. However, despite my improvements so far, I feel like I could be a lot better if Genma wasn't always gone on missions. There's only so much I can do to improve on my own or with the help of babysitters.<p>

Other than the library trips I have only left the house one time. Genma doesn't really have time to bring me places, and the Genin who watch me don't _want_ to bring me anywhere.

I'm not exactly the best behaved child in the world.

That one time I had got to go somewhere other than the library was when Genma dressed me in a black dress and we stood in a crowd of people for a funeral. The entire village is a disaster; buildings are wrecked, some districts are absolutely demolished . . .

Something _big_ happened.

I really shouldn't be surprised by how often Genma is gone; he is part of Anbu. Yet . . . every time he leaves, I get so scared that he won't come back. My babysitters must be frustrated with how much I whine when he leaves.

When he comes back, though, that fear is relieved until he has to leave again.

After an entire day of pleading, I was able to convince Genma to bring me out shopping to get junk food. It's my second real trip out (if you exclude the library trips) and on our way back, and older woman in her mid thirties stops to talk to Genma. She's extremely pale - I don't know; I'm tanner than her and I'm not even two - and her black hair makes her look almost sickly. I stand awkwardly beside him, gripping the lightweight grocery bag in my left hand as I wait for them to finish talking so we can get home.

The woman turns her attention to me suddenly and I dart behind Genma and squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to avoid conversation. Genma just turns and lifts me up by my armpits, placing me down in front of him while I squirm uncomfortably.

"Kinuta, this is Ms. Suzuki," Genma tells me. Although he doesn't tell me anything else, I know he expects me to greet her.

My cheeks grow warm as I shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Mo - Morning, Ms. Suzuki," I practically whisper. Genma taps the top of my head twice with his finger.

"It isn't morning anymore. Use the right greeting."

I grow warmer. So that isn't it . . .

"G - Good night?" I try, feeling confused. There are too many ways to greet people in this stupid language. Genma lets out an exasperated sigh but Ms. Suzuki just waves it off with a kind smile.

"Little one, it is _hello_," she corrects me gently. I look at the ground and whisper the word she said. She turns back to Genma and they resume their fast conversation. At first I attempt to listen in and pick out words I recognize, but in the end I give up. My comprehension has gotten better, but I still suck. My vocabulary is really limited and whatever they're talking about is far out of my range of understanding.

While I wait I look around. Genma is holding onto the back of my shirt to keep me from wandering off, but I still have a very limited range of movement. I teeter a bit further then I should from him, causing the collar of my shirt to dig into my throat, and I let out a hiss as I drop my bag to tug at the restricting clothing.

"Stop it," my brother tells me. Begrudgingly I obey him, sticking my foot through the handles of the bag so I can pull it over to me. I do an awkward hop back to his side (how I stay standing is beyond my knowledge) and when the bag is secured in my hand I lean against Genma. He releases my collar to wrap his hand around my head and keep me steady, so I let my eyes wander around the village.

There isn't very much to see though. Everything is demolished; torn up buildings, destroyed houses, children dressed in rags running barefoot through the streets . . . this Konoha is completely different than the one in the show.

Far above my head I hear the taps of people hopping across the roofs of the buildings (well, the ones that have roofs), but I can't see them. A few people are working on repairing the worst of the damage, but other than that it doesn't look like much has been done so far to fix up the village.

I tug on my brother's shirt, dragging is attention away from Ms. Suzuki. He glances down at me before looking back up to her and saying a few more things. I frown, feeling a bit offended that he outright ignored me, but try my best to wait until he's finished to ask.

A few minutes later we exchange goodbyes with Ms. Suzuki, and immediately I pull on Genma's shirt once again. He must assume I want to be held, or something, because he sweeps me up and balances me on his hip. I start squirming, but ultimately decide to just let him carry me home. My legs are tired anyways.

"Gemma," I gnaw on his shoulder to get his attention. "Why so messy?"

Genma shakes his head at me, though I feel him stiffen up a bit. "Not now Kinuta." I frown, but go back to gnawing on his arm while smacking his leg with the grocery bag. When he takes the bag from me I resign to just trying to chew his arm off.

He puts me down to unlock the door and I launch myself inside, not bothering to kick my shoes off as I make a beeline to the bathroom. I only trip and fall on my face once and as I click the lock on the door I climb the stool and turn on the faucet. I squeeze some soap into my hands and rub them together vigorously until my hands are covered in bubbles.

I wash the soap off but don't bother drying my hands. Instead I clumsily unlock the bathroom door and walk into the living room to find Genma. I don't see him in there, so I turn down the hallway and slam his door open.

Which is, obviously, a _terrible idea _seeing as my brother is a ninja.

I scream as something flies past my face, and I dizzily fall on my butt as something wet drips down my cheek. I hear Genma swear as he crouches down in front of me.

"Ow," I croak, tearing up. I move to lift my still wet hand to my cheek, but Genma stops me.

"Don't," he orders, helping me up. I blink, still feeling dizzy, and feel myself being carried. When I'm put down, I can hear water running.

Genma tilts my head to stare at my cheek, being careful not to squeeze my face or anything. I try to twist my head back to look at him. "Uhhm . . . what happened?"

My face is wet now and I kick my legs as a dull pain blooms in the spot. "Ow ow ow stooop!" I push at his hands, which does absolutely no good, and resign myself to blinking back tears.

A minute later there is a band aid on my cheek and Genma is patting my head while we lay on the couch, my back against his torso. "Sorry," he says to me, running his fingers through my hair. "I didn't know it was you."

I lean my head back into his fingers, blinking sleepily. I realize I still have my shoes on. "It's OK," I loll my head to the side and touch my finger against the band aid. Genma continues to play with my hair as I doze off.

"Try not to do that again." I nod, breathing through my nose. I love when my brother plays with my hair; it's soothing. Mum used to do it to help me fall asleep.

I don't remember falling asleep. One second I was leaning against Genma on the couch, listening to his breathing and occasional mumbles to me, and the next second I was laying in my bed. I stretch my back with a yawn, crawling under the covers and towards the end of the bed. I slip out through the side, rolling forward and landing on my back with an "oof".

I notice my shoes aren't on anymore. Genma must have taken them off for me.

I climb to my knees and then feet, slipping out of the open door. Genma won't let me sleep with my door closed.

"Gemma," I yell, yawning. I walk down the hall, towards the living room to find him, but he finds me first. He lifts me up, and I squirm against him, wanting down. When my feet are on the ground I wrap my arms around him and look up. "Hungry."

"What do you want to eat?" He asks, heading towards the kitchen. I totter after him and shrug my shoulders.

"Noodle and egg and rice."

Genma makes a small sound as we enter the living room. I drop onto the floor on my belly and reach for the blocks scattered around the room. These blocks only have numbers (in kanji), and despite the fact that I already know all of these - well, which are which at least; pronouncing them is another thing entirely - I still mess around with them anyways.

"Which one is this?" Genma asks me, pointing at the nine as he sits beside me.

Immediately I answer - "Jiu!" only to get a shake of the head from him. I frown, confused, only to remember that is how you say it in Mandarin, not Japanese.

"_Kyuu_," he corrects me. I repeat it a few times to myself, and Genma points to the block with a three on it.

"_San," _I say, and when he nods his head I smile to myself. I trace the kanji on the block with my fingers. "One, two, three." I trace over each stroke as I count. Genma ruffles my hair before returning back to the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes later I put down the blocks and climb into the chair at the table. Genma is already sitting across from me, with a much larger serving of food than I have, his senbon somewhere out of sight. Meal time and when sleeping seems to be the only time it isn't in his mouth.

"Thanks for food!" I scoop some rice into my spoon and stuff it into my mouth, kicking my legs under the table. He didn't make egg, but rice and noodles are enough to satisfy me. Genma uses the serving chopsticks to give me some noodles from the large bowl in the middle of the table.

Unlike me, my brother uses chopsticks to eat. While chopsticks were easy to use in my last life - using them daily your entire life makes them easy to use - I don't have the dexterity to use them yet.

Usually conversation is nonexistent during meal time, but now is the best time for me to ask my question. So, I put my spoon in my bowl and finishing chewing one of the noodles in my mouth before asking, "Why'sit messy?"

Genma doesn't respond immediately. Like I did, he finishes what he is chewing before speaking. "In the village?"

I nod. "Is it from the . . . uhm, the . . . " I mimic the action of shaking something up and down since I don't know the word for shaking or earthquake yet. "Gatchi - Gatchi?*"

Genma sighs. "Something like that." I puff my cheeks out and wait for him to continue. Eventually he does, and while he speaks I push more noodles into my mouth, abandoning my spoon in favour of my fingers. "The village was attacked about two weeks ago - remember the _shaking_?" He copies the shaking action I made. I nod. "The Hokage . . . he died saving the village from it."

"Hokage?" I question, bringing my hand up to cover my mouth. The word comes out muffled from the food in my mouth.

"The village leader," he explains. "With his death, the previous Hokage will be taking office again."

I pick out words I know and figure out the general idea of the sentence. The previous Hokage, meaning that the one who died was the 4th Hokage.

So that shaking really _was_ the Kyuubi attack . . .

I don't feel hungry anymore. I put my spoon in the bowl and push it back, despite the fact that I still have a good amount left in there. Then I fold my arms on the table and put my forehead against them.

"Kinuta?" My brother sounds concerned now. "What's wrong?"

I shake my head the best I can, breathing out through my nose. I can feel myself starting to panic, and my head is pounding against my skull. In the back of my head, I knew and _expected_ to be in this part of Naruto, if only because of the ages of the canon characters. But . . . until now, it didn't really sink in, I guess. It is easier to pretend I'm not going to be living through the main story line than to accept that I am _going to be living through the main story line._

Twelve years before the main plot is when the Kyuubi attacked. That means I only have twelve years to prepare myself for the shit that is going to go down in the future.

I mean, assuming that I don't die before the worst of it happens. I am going to be _living _through it; through the first invasion, and then through all the battles that happen later if I survive the first invasion.

There are only two choices for me; become a ninja or stay a civilian. I almost can't decide which is worse, because if I become a ninja I'll be putting my life on the line every single day. But if I choose the easy life of a civilian, I'll be unable to protect myself. I'll just be helpless, forever.

My mind whirls as I try to figure out how long I really have. Assuming that I somehow manage to get started on _any _kind of ninja arts by my third birthday, that means I only have ten years to learn enough to survive the first major event that'll happen.

Ten years is equal to 120 months, 120 months is 3,652.42 days (3,652.42 days times twenty four hours a day - ), 87,658.08 hours.

This sort of math is something that, since I haven't done it in so long, takes what feels like an eternity to figure out.

I sniffle, unable to stop my tears. I hear Genma push his chair back and feel him pull my shoulders back so that I'm upright against the chair and I avoid looking at him when he pulls my chair back and stares me straight in the eyes.

"Are you hurt?" He asks, a frown marring his face. I shake my head hunching my shoulders and bringing my hands up to cover my eyes. I feel Genma lift me up and cradle me like I'm a baby as I press the heel of my palms into my eyes.

Assuming that I'll sleep an average of 7 hours a day(210 hours a month, 2555 hours a year times ten years - ), that'll take away 25,550 hours in the span of ten years. Assume another 3 hours a day for food - (1095 hours a year times ten years is 10,950) and nine hours of school five days a week (45 hours a week, 2,340 hours a year times ten years - ) adds up to 59,900.

Sometime between when he picked me up and when I finished all that math he's sitting on his bed with my between his legs. My back is against his chest and like he was earlier he's playing with my hair to calm me down. I wish I could say that it is working.

I wheeze and lower my hands so that I can blink tearfully. I mumble a quiet, "26,758.08 usable hours . . . divided by . . . by . . . "

I don't realize I'm talking in English (87,658.08 divided by 26,758.08 whatisitwhati_sit) _until Genma turns me around so that I can face him. His dark brown eyes stare into my orange ones and he tells me not to babble to myself and speak clearly.

"T - Three point three years . . . " After a good minute of mental long division - my head feels like it is falling into pieces, fuck everything hurts toomuchthinking - I finish the math.

"What?" My brother asks. "What do you mean?"

I shake my head and lay my head against his torso. His hands go back to smoothing down my hair. I have a killer headache now - a toddler's brain is not made to do that much math - and I feel like I'm dying.

In total, the combined amount of time I'll really spend training will add up to about three years of actual practice . . . hopefully, enough to keep me alive.

Probably not enough to keep me alive.

I'm glad that Genma took my mumbled English sentences as being a bunch of gibberish, because it would be horribly difficult to explain why I was talking in a different language that he has never heard before.

He reaches into his pouch and removes a senbon. He places it in his mouth, and I suppress the urge to shiver.

Don't some of the enemies in the series use senbon as weapons? The image of an umbrella spewing out senbon and impaling someone enters my head and this time I can't help shivering at the thought. A body filled with senbon, like a pincushion also comes to mind and I feel queasy. Black hair, blood, screaming lightning _deadeyesdarkness -_

"Are you cold?" Genma asks, unknowingly stopping my thoughts from heading in a very bad direction.

"No . . . " I reply, still attempting to push back the panic in my belly. It isn't working very well. "Um . . . I feel bad."

It isn't a lie. I _do _feel ill; it is just from the worry that is building inside of me.

"Why?"

I shrug and push myself away from him so I can lay on my stomach. Genma remains where he is, watching me roll back and forth in an attempt to find a comfortable spot.

When I find a comfortable spot I ask, "Is Hokage strong?"

I'm on my side with both my arms folded under my head. I'm facing my brother. I see his senbon droop a bit.

_A body littered and filled with senbon, poking out at every angle and bleeding red into the concrete floor of the bridge - _

"Yes," he tells me. I unfold both my arms, roll on my back, and scratch the inside of my wrist. "Why?"

I continue scratching. "Um . . . Hokage died," I say slowly, "and is strong. So . . . I'll die too."

I know strong characters die in the tv show and comic series, so what will stop me from dying? I'll never be as strong as them, or as fearless. I mean, I spill everything and trip a lot - I'll probably trip into a trap and get beheaded or something.

"And . . . I don'wanna die."

_Red chakra, suffocating and blinding, snapping every limb and slitting the throat of all who get in its way, deaddeaddeaddead -_

I bite my tongue to keep from grimacing. Genma gently moves my hand so that I'm not scratching at myself anymore.

"Kinuta," I look over at him. "Do you trust me?"

I frown, but nod.

He nods. "Good." He drops his hand into a pouch on his left leg and removes a pointed object from it. He motions for me to sit up, which I do, and places the object in my hand. It is larger than my entire hand with an edge sharp enough to draw blood.

A kunai.

"This," he folds my fingers over the hilt of the weapon, "is a _kunai_. It is a weapon used by ninja."

_A kunai in his mouth, it is all he uses as he kills all in his way - an army of men, without his arms he's slit their throats and cut out their tongues so they can't scream -_

I keep my eyes fixated on the object, despite the black spots multiplying in the edges of my vision. He's talking about this with such calmness that it is scary.

Genma moves my other hand to the tip of the weapon and for a second I'm afraid he's going to impale me with it. Instead, he says - well, more like gently orders, "Touch the end of it."

I do so, with just a bit too much force, and whine when it pricks my finger. Steady drops of blood drip down my finger and he releases my hand. "Sharp, right?"

I nod. The blood reminds me of red hair and dark eyes. A wall of sand comes to mind and screams echo through my head, tortured and pained as their life is sucked out of them.

"Ninja use these to protect people." He takes the kunai back from me and places it back in his pouch. "You won't die, because until you're old enough to learn to protect yourself, I'll keep you safe.

"With kunai?" I ask. Genma cracks a smile and pats my head.

"With kunai."

I stick my finger into my mouth and suck on the blood. It is barely bleeding and I remove it from my mouth a few seconds later. "I wan' learn how."

A flash of _something _goes through Genma's eyes, but it is gone so fast that I barely have a chance to notice it was there. His hand ruffles my hair affectionately.

"You will soon, Kinuta."

_As the rain soaks the blood from the bridge and washes it into the stormy sea, the beast takes a final breath before collapsing into a bloody mess and breathing out his last breath._

* * *

><p>After that, I stop sleeping as much. My ten hour nights and three hour naps during the day turn into six hours at night and two during the day. Every time I shut my eyes, mutated bodies fill my head and invade my dreams. People are dying; at first they're strangers, but before I know it the strangers have become people I know - my brother, my mother, the old lady who lives next door.<p>

Scenes from the tv show replay themselves in my head over and over again. When I wake up, I've forgotten most of it, but scenes stick out. A faceless corpse. Dead children. Crushed corpes, bloody decapitated heads. Dead eyes. Always dead eyes.

I know Genma notices my change in sleeping habits, but he doesn't comment on it. He's probably happy that I've stopped sleeping so much.

Despite the eyes, I doze off constantly. I'm always tired now. Thankfully the dreams only come after an hour of undisturbed sleep; never earlier, but sometimes longer.

Before I realize it, my second birthday has rolled around. Genma tells me we aren't having a big celebration for it. When I ask why, he simply tells me that I won't remember it and so there is no real need to have a big celebration.

A normal two year old would pout in scream. I just nodded and accepted it.

He gives me new books, teaches me some new stretches and hand games, and makes my favorite dinner instead of us having a party. He even buys my favorite deserts - mochi and, as I've just found out, daifuku. I never got to try them in my last life, but I've always wanted to.

I eat about four of them before Genma takes them away. The ache in my belly has already started but I ignore it. I want more of the sweets, even if it makes me sick.

"But - but - " I protest futility, practically launching myself across the table, "I wanna strawberry one!" Technically the correct name for it is Strawberry Daifuku, but it is easier to say strawberry alone.

"You already _had_ one of those," Genma argues. I slam my hands down on the table in frustration before sitting back down in my chair. I've grown a few centimeters since I moved in with him and I can actually see clearly over the table now.

"Fine! Be a bully!" I slide off the chair and throw myself onto the couch as he puts away the left overs. Usually we just get the plain mochi - strawberry flavoured is my favourite - and occasionally ohagi, but the old lady who owns the shop was having a discount on daifuku and I just _had_ to have some.

When Genma comes back I've recovered from pouting and promptly ask him if I can learn to use kunai. The memories of the corpses from my dreams make me ask. The thought of his body, splayed across a rooftop makes me beg and whine for him to teach me. He says no, but when I continue bugging him he lets out an annoyed groan and tosses a book at me. It's the fourth one he's given me today.

I don't catch it, but when I return to the couch with the book in hand I plop down and stare at the cover over it. The combination of hanzi - _kanji Kinuta, not hanzi - _doesn't make sense to me, and I stare for a few more seconds in total confusion before tentatively opening it up, unsure of what to expect.

The first page is entirely text with kanji and the other two alphabets. I just skip the pages with writing and continue flipping through the book. When I finally find a page with mostly pictures, I realize what kind of book this is.

It's a hand seal book. The ones that are used for jutsu and stuff.

I look at the pictures, noticing the character next to each one. When I try to identify them, my mind draws a complete blank and I give up, instead staring at the pictures.

"Wha'sis?" I ask, as I try to force my chubby hands into the easiest of the twelve. "Names?"

"These are the twelve hand seals a ninja must know," Genma leans over the back couch back to look at the page I'm on. He tries to guide my hands into the correct position, and after I let my hands go lax he maneuvers them into the one I was trying to copy. "This one is the _tiger_ seal."

I stare at my hands. A ninja must know these . . .

. . . Wait, I _never said_ I wanted to be a ninja.

My thoughts must be clear because as Genma rounds the couch he simply says, "If you want to learn to protect yourself and use kunai, you're going to be a ninja." I pout and he ruffles my hair before going back to our conversation. "Anyways, I'll give you the names for each of these."

And so, he names off each of the seals while demonstrating them to me. Monkey, dragon, rat, bird, snake, ox, dog, horse, tiger, boar, ram, and hare. As I repeat each of the names, I blink in sudden realization.

Each of those animals are part of the zodiac cycle. The year of the monkey, snake, ox, etc. So the seals are based off the zodiac?

I stare at my hands, which are still in the _tiger_ seal. Faintly, I remember a large fireball as I stare at my hands. For once, a memory isn't accompanied with a dead body. I shake away the memory before grinning at Genma. "I learn these, then learn kunai!"

* * *

><p>"Can I learn now?" I question as I try to read through of the books he bought me on my own. I had managed to <em>learn<em> the hand seals easily enough, but remembering and making them is another thing. Not to mention the fact that my hands are still chubby and stiff. A lot of the signs - dragon, horse, and bird - hurt to try, but considering that I'm nearly three I think I've done an OK job.

Cat's cradle and other hand games that Genma showed me helped with my dexterity a lot, but I'm still small. My hands aren't used to be manipulated into those positions.

I had hurt my thumb the last time I tried to go through the bird seal, so I had instead retired to trying to muddle my way through a child's picture book. Key word being _trying_. While Genma - and the more child friendly of the Genin who watch me - has been trying to help me learn kana, I just can't _get_ it. I mean, I can read it and all, but I'm so . . . slow. It takes me ages to read through a book that my brother could probably read in a minute flat. That _I_ could've read in a minute flat in my last life, provided it was in a language I knew.

Sometimes I forget or mix up two different characters, and the word makes no sense to me. And kanji; well, that is a whole other thing in general. When I see a character, my brain tells me what it means in _Chinese_ and I end up making a total fool of myself when I happen to know the appropriate way to say that word in Japanese and get told that isn't what it means.

The book I'm reading is about a boy named Issunboushi who is only the size of an adult's thumb. He defeats two stone ninja and becomes tall in the end, or something. I was half asleep when the Genin girl read it to me, and I'm only a third of the way through myself. Thankfully, no kanji, only kana.

Genma is standing against the table, looking exhausted with a cup of coffee in his hand. He just returned from a week long mission with scrapes and bruises across his entire body last night, and bandages are placed haphazardly - that would be my fault - across his arms and face. Initially when he returned I had started bawling because there was still blood splattered across his armor and clothes. I thought he was dying at first until I realized the blood wouldn't be on his armor, but I still clung to him.

He still didn't seem right this morning; there is something in his eyes that is just . . . wrong.

"Not today, Kinuta."

I pout and return to my book. Usually I would put up a bit of a fuss, just to annoy him, but I can tell he's exhausted and I just know he would tell me to go through the seals until I stormed off in frustration and left him alone for awhile. Besides, Issunboushi is more interesting than stupid ninja tools anyways.

* * *

><p>I'm three years and eight months old when I ask again.<p>

"Pleeease? I'm big now." I hang off my brother as he gets dressed, already wearing my own clothes - though they aren't really mine, considering they're hand me downs from Genma. "I can finally do bird without hurting myself."

I'm waiting for him to get dressed so he can run through stretches with me. I'm a lot more flexible than I used to be when it comes to stretching; I can do things that I wouldn't have even _tried_ in my last life.

For example; I can touch my palms flat to the floor without bending my knees or feeling any strain. I can almost grabmy _ankles_ when bending backwards (the only thing stopping me is my balance).

Genma's senbon twitches. I know that is a 'no' in morning Genma language. I clamber onto the bed and hop up and down on it, despite Genma's constant warnings not to in the past. When he doesn't respond I bounce extra hard, putting all my weight into it, before launching myself at his back.

In case you don't know, ninja - Anbu especially - are _always_ on guard; even when sleeping. So of course, my attempt at jumping him goes . . . terribly, to say the least.

Though in my brother's defense, he doesn't try and drive a kunai into my throat this time. The last time I tried to jump him he had just returned from a mission and, well . . . let's just say I'm glad he realized I wasn't an enemy before it was too late.

You'd think I would've learned my lesson when I got my face cut open as a two year old, but apparently not.

So, instead of a kunai in my throat or a cut on my cheek I just get a hard shock as my knees smash into the hard wood floor. I flop onto my side, cradling my knees in my hands as Genma leans over me.

"Sorry princess," he doesn't sound sorry at all.

"So . . . is that a no?" I croak, eyes shut tightly in pain. He laughs and helps me up.

* * *

><p>"Hey brother, what does <em>hi - to - i<em> mean?"

Genma glances at the book in my lap. It is about an old man who is constantly bothered by a raccoon, so he tries to capture him. I refuse to let anyone read it to me; instead, I want to read it on my own. See how well I make it through.

"'Do', not 'to'," he points at the hiragana character I'm talking about and then points out the two marks to the right.

"Ten-ten?"

"Dakuten."

I roll my eyes and reread the word out loud. "_Hi - do_ - oh!" I look over at Genma who is reading over a file in his lap. "Horrible?"

He nods at me and I beam to myself. A small achievement, but it means a lot to me.

I continue through the book. The wife of the old man foolishly lets the raccoon out and he . . . kills her?

I squint at the text, hunching forward so my face is closer to the text.

Yeah, that is what is says apparently.

"A raccoon killed an old lady with a kunai," I start, "teach me to use kunai so the raccoon doesn't kill me too?"

I just get a pat on the head.

* * *

><p>My fourth birthday rolls around soon enough, and to my surprise Genma brings me out shopping to get groceries for dinner rather than just asking me what I want and leaving to get it himself.<p>

"Can we have Gomuka Akakane?" I ask, practically running circles around him. I can't help being excited - Genma even said we could buy a _cake_ this year - a cake! The last two years I haven't gotten one; the excuse had been because I wouldn't remember the event anyways, but I think it was just because of how busy my brother was.

His work in Anbu has slowed lately. I've been seeing him a lot more and I'm glad; him being home more means that I get to leave the apartment more.

"You mean Gomuku Ankake?"

I flush. "Yeah, that. Can we have it? Please?"

Gomuku Ankake Yakisoba is, in my opinion, one of the _best_ dishes. Ever. It is noodles with both seafood _and_ pork, though I don't like the mushrooms in it.

"Or, no no - " I cut off my brother as he starts to speak, "Tai - Meshi! Let's have Tai - Meshi!"

Tai - Meshi is another favourite of mine. It is Sea Bream - or, more commonly with us Red Snapper - and rice, basically. A lot more simple to make than Gomuku.

A _third_ idea pops to mind and I let out a long whine. "Or maybe even Tamagoyaki . . . " I look up at Genma, "can we just have them all? I don't know which one I want the most."

He looks at me, amused. "Why don't we just go out and have Oyakodon?"

"Hmm . . . " I think it over, before slowing my steps and making one overly dramatic step while crossing my arms high on my chest, "OK. Oyakodon then." As we continue walking, I pause. "Wait - you said go _out_?"

Genma grins at me through his senbon and I latch my arms around his waist with a wide grin on my face. We haven't eaten out in a long time - apparently eating out too much will stunt my growth. However, I don't mind too much because Genma isn't that bad at cooking. I like his food.

I skip alongside Genma as we head towards the stand that we usually eat at, going through the hand seals slowly as I'm walking. With all of the hand games I've played since first getting the hand seal book, doing even the hardest ones doesn't hurt anymore. I sing my own little tune that I made up for the signs as I do so.

". . . Then the _rat_ is eaten by the _snake_, and the _dog_ comes run - run - ing . . . " I trail off as I hear a jumble of voices down the alley beside me. At the same moment, a scarred man slings his arm across Genma's shoulder and the two start talking. They must be friends, because Genma is smiling at him. I've never seen him around before. Genma forcefully introduces me to the man, though I don't catch his name. I'm too busy listening for the sound I heard.

I stare at the two of them before looking around and slipping into the alley and towards the voices. Genma watches me do so, but doesn't go to stop me. He'll get me when we're ready to go.

As I get closer, I realize that the sound has grown into shouting. I manage to pick out some words, like 'dead' and 'filth', and my curiosity is peaked. I step a bit closer and manage to catch a glimpse of orange within the crowd.

I swear my breath stops in my throat. My hands grow sweaty and I feel frozen, staring at the mob around the orange blob. As I listen closely I hear whimpers and other small noises that can't belong to the grown men in front of me.

As one of the men raises his arm to swing a glass bottle down at the form, I find my voice.

"W - What are you doing?" I stammer, my voice coming out louder than I expected. The men stop and turn, looking at me with annoyed glares. The one with the bottle lowers his arm and the blob trembles. With their movement I see a mop of blond hair to go along with the orange.

Oh god. Is that - that's Naruto, isn't it? I remember the village hated him because of the Kyuubi but -

No, no, no, no. I try to calm my breathing, practically trembling. He's - god, he's _younger_ than I am, isn't he?

"D - Don't . . . " I suddenly feel like a toddler again as my words escape me, ". . . you . . . " my gaze flickers to Naruto who is staggering to his knees. I notice a shallow cut on the side of his face and feel like crying. When his eyes flicker up at me, the contrast between the electrifying blue gaze and the aching loneliness hidden in them makes me feel sick.

One of the men sneers before telling me to go away. I bite my lip as they turn back to Naruto, who is once again cowering with his hands over his head. I tremble, from anger this time, and take a tenacious step forward, feeling something warm swirl in my stomach. As the bottle is raised again, I foolishly - _very_ foolishly - dart towards the men faster than I should be able to. The warmth in my belly seems to spread and as I shove through two of them I trip, loosing my footing, and fall practically on top of Naruto.

The man who had swung the bottle didn't notice my interference, and I feel glass smash the side of my face. The warmth that had spread through my body seems to flicker - I can't really describe it - and I wheeze, crumpling over Naruto's terrified form.

I must've screamed sometime between getting hit and falling, because suddenly the men are the ones screaming - yelling? - and I hear the sound of running. I blink blearily as something wet trails down my face, and as I move to wipe it away the world swirls around me.

"Kinuta!" Genma is suddenly in front of me, and I blink when I see two of him. I turn my head and see the scarred man from earlier behind him, looking angry, and Naruto, staring at me through teary eyes.

I blink again. "Oh, hi Genma," I slur a bit. My head aches and my stomach feels hot again. It feels like boiling water and is spreading through my body; through my limbs, my fingers, my toes, and even to my eyes. It is unfamiliar.

"What the hell were you doing?"

On my right hand, I see blood smeared across the side. My stomach clenches as I wiggle my fingers, unsure of what the think of the new feeling. Faintly, I can remember feeling this before, but it is one of those memories that you just . . . know, but don't actually _remember_.

I look up at him and notice his senbon isn't in his mouth. Odd. "Uhh . . . they were . . . " I feel lethargic, "gonna . . . he was getting hurt." I motion towards Naruto who looks like a scared rabbit. I'm expecting him to take off running at any moment.

Genma's lips tighten and I jump when I hear a trembling voice. "I - I - I didn't, I wasn't - " Naruto sniffles loudly as I try and stand up, "I - I didn't h - hurt, I didn't - "

"Hey, it's OK kid," the man behind Genma crouches down in front of him. "You're not in trouble."

Genma lets out a loud sigh before hoisting me up by the back of my shirt and holding me carefully. "Raidou, help me bring them to the hospital, will you?"

* * *

><p>Apparently the bottle only caused a shallow gash, because the nurse just put a butterfly stitch over it before announcing I was fine. She didn't even bother healing it. Naruto had immediately went to the nearest corner and pulled himself into a ball, trembling and refusing to let the nurse check him over. I didn't miss the glares that had been directed towards him, and the nurse hadn't even tried to get him checked after her first attempt.<p>

Genma is watching me carefully as I wander over to Naruto. As I sit down in front of him he looks up, before immediately pulling his face back into his legs.

"You should let the nurse check you," I say, crossing my legs. "I know you got hurt."

Naruto doesn't look up, and I frown. This isn't the Naruto from the tv show. I had thought that he had always been a hyperactive person, but apparently not.

"Whenever I don't tell Genma I get hurt, I get in trouble." Naruto still doesn't look up. "You don't want to get in trouble."

"'on't," I hear him say. "I won't get in trouble."

I can feel Genma's stare on my back, but I try to ignore it. "Why not?"

"Kinuta," Genma's tone holds a warning in it. Hadn't the Anbu watched over Naruto as a kid? Does that mean that my brother has watched over Naruto before?

Naruto finally looks up. His face is a red, blotchy mess, and the skin around his eyes is swollen from crying. He doesn't answer my question, but he doesn't retreat back into his ball, which I take to be progress.

I stand up. "If you're scared, I'll hold your hand?" I offer my hand to him, but he doesn't take it. My face gets hot. Right when I'm about to retract my hand and slip away to hide in my embarrassment, Naruto tentatively takes it and stands up. His hold on my hand is so loose, as if he's expecting me to yank my hand away, but I don't. Instead I squeeze his hand and lead him over to the nurse, who seems rather off put by the fact that I convinced him to come over.

During his entire examination Naruto is clinging to my hand, and the nurse doesn't say a word - though, that could be because of the intensity in Genma's stare.

When it's all finished I look at Naruto. He really hadn't had anything wrong - the cut I had seen was, miraculously, not even there when the nurse cleared away the blood - and besides the small bruises and malnutrition - my observation, not the nurses' - he is overall fine.

Naruto is still clinging to my hand as we exit the hospital. Genma rounds on me and I squeeze Naruto's hand tighter when I see his angry stare. Raidou isn't around anymore. He left sometime between arriving at the hospital and getting Naruto checked by the nurse.

"What the hell, Kinuta?" My grip on Naruto's hand loosens a bit. "Do you know how _badly_ that could've ended if Raidou and I hadn't noticed you flare your Chakra?" My bottom lip quivers and heat rushes to my face again. "In fact, how did you even _learn_ to flare your Chakra?"

"I - I couldn't just ignore it . . . " I whisper, blinking away tears.

Genma shakes his head. He had somehow managed to get another senbon in his mouth. "You should've told me."

"They were going to hit him . . . " my voice drops to a whisper and I slip my hand out of Naruto's.

Genma lets out a frustrated breath, and Naruto takes a few steps back, looking like he's about to bolt. I turn to look at him, and he stares back at me. I look over at Genma, and swallow hard.

"C - . . . am I in trouble?" I clutch my stomach between my arms, "can we still get Oyakodon?"

Despite all that has happened tonight, I _still_ haven't gotten to eat my birthday dinner. On cue, my stomach growls and I hold it tighter. That seems to cause some of the tension in the air to disappear, because my brother presses his hand against his forehead with a sigh of exasperation.

"Yeah, we can," he says. I smile weakly, and turn to look at Naruto only to see that he's gone. I blink, and then frown as I turn fully to look for him.

Yet, I see no orange or blonde in the crowds. Unsure of what to think, I turn towards Genma who is watching me carefully. "Will he be OK?" I ask, as I fiddle with my hands.

Genma crouches down to look at me. "I'm sure he'll be fine," he reassures me. I nod slowly and he stands back up. "Now, why don't we go eat?"

Again I nod, and as we distance ourselves from the hospital I get caught up in my own enjoyment. By the time I'm at home, under the pile of blankets I sleep with and my stuffed bear, I've forgotten about Naruto.

"Good night," Genma pushes my bangs back and runs his thumb across my forehead. I parrot it back to him, and don't even notice him leaving as I fall asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Eeeh, sorry for the rush through Kinuta's early/toddler years. I don't know anything about toddlers and so I just wanted to get it over with. Genma is a surprisingly hard character to write, and I'm worried that I am going to write him improperly or something. He only has like, what, 5 episodes in the show? **

**Sorry for errors, I've proofread this but I'm tired and so I might have missed some things.**

**Thanks for reading. **"


	3. Chapter 3

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

**A/N: This chapter starts off two years after the last one. Kinuta is six and it is the middle of March.**

* * *

><p>I fold my hands into the bird sign, sitting crisscross in the middle of the living room. I'm careful not to twist my thumb the wrong way and to keep my fingers straight. As soon as I have it done, I switch to the ox sign, and then horse. I make sure my elbows are out for horse.<p>

"Snake isn't right," Genma tells me. I frown, unsure how I can mess up just clutching my hands together. "Left thumb on the outside, not the right. You'll blow someone's head off if you mess that up with a real jutsu."

I fix it so my left thumb is on the outside. I look up and see brother nod, and move onto the ram seal.

To the common citizen of Konoha (as in, any civilian family), the Ninja Academy allows children to enroll at the age of eight. That gives a civilian child four years to become good enough to graduate.

For families with any ninja on active duty, it is a little different. There are early enrollment tests for children as young as five, though only clan children seem to go in that early. For non clan - and non civilian - children, early enrollment generally means six and seven year olds.

To get in early, though, there's an entrance exam to test that the child is able to do simple tasks such as read and write kana, identify the meaning of simple and commonly used kanji, and be able to identify basic facts about Konoha's history.

Genma told me that he would enroll me - or, at least, enroll me to take the early entrance test - when he felt that I was good enough to pass it. While children aren't required to know hand seals and how to bend their body in obscene ways (do a back bend and grab your ankles, place your hands flat behind you, sit with your legs far apart and touch your torso flat to the floor), it is just sort of . . . an expectation. Any active duty ninja who wants their child to enter into the academy will have at least started them on exercises to improve dexterity and flexibility so that they can keep up.

This, obviously, puts all civilian children who enroll at a _huge _disadvantage. It isn't surprising that most of the graduating classes are composed of clan children and children who have at least one parent in active duty; children born into a civilian family are almost guaranteed to fail.

"When will the test be?" I ask, as I finish my run through of the twelve hand signs. Although I learned them quite a few years ago, I am not using them every day and so in order to keep myself from forgetting how, Genma has me run through them twice a day as quickly as I can without messing up. It's amazing how many small mistakes can be made with a simple sign like tiger or monkey.

"Two weeks from tomorrow." I lay flat on my back and awkwardly bend my legs so that the lower portion lay parallel to my sides. "You should work some more on your kana."

I stare at Genma from my spot on the floor, and wiggle my hand above my head. "I can read good enough to pass, though," I argue. I don't like reading. Reading children books is boring and I'm not good enough yet to read books targeted at older children.

"Not your reading skills," Genma corrects as he continues writing at the work table. "Your writing. You don't write clearly."

I let out a groan of protest, rolling onto my stomach and propping my head up on my fists. "I can read it," I mutter, a bit offended. I mean, sure, compared to his penmanship mine is like scribbles, but I'm, what, seventeen years younger than him? My handwriting won't be nice looking for at least seven more years if my memories of my past life are anything to go by.

I get up and peer over his shoulder to watch him write. "What're you writing?" I ask, tilting my head so that my cheek presses against the crook of his neck.

"Mission report," Genma replies. "They're mandatory after each mission."

I "hmm" to myself and drop to my knees so I can crawl into his lap. My brother grunts, but doesn't move to push me off. He just adjusts his arm so that I can lean against him and watch him write without messing him up.

I play some dexterity games from where I'm sitting. Hand flat on my leg. Lift each finger and lower it without disturbing the other fingers. I struggle a bit with my forth finger, but I'm getting better. Rinse, repeat. Press each finger against the opposite one on the other hand and push until they're together but palms are apart. Slowly return to bent starting position and repeat.

The minutes tick by as I do my hand games and Genma writes. When I've gone through all the exercises two times each I twirl a strand of hair around my finger. I've been growing it out, but as I've found out long hair is annoying. It is hard to wash and brush, because the bottom gets tangled up and curled from the humid weather of the Fire Country.

I tip my head back so I'm staring up at my brother. His hair is getting long too, though it doesn't look as bad as mine does. I reach up and tug on a longer strand hanging over his shoulder, and he looks down at me. I grin at him.

"We need haircuts."

Genma hums in agreement. I drop the lock of hair I'm holding and lean back against his free arm, tapping my fingers on the floor. I do it in a specific pattern; pinky, ring, middle, thumb. Pinky, ring, middle thumb. Pinky, middle, pointer, thumb. As I continue with the tapping, I try to speed up without breaking the pattern. It is difficult. I change the order after every three successful pattern.

Some amount of time later, Genma puts down the pen he's holding and lets out a groan as he stretches back. I lean back with him, mimicking the sound, before crawling off of him and clambering onto the couch. "You finished the report?" I assume. Genma nods and I stretch out on the couch.

"Can we get haircuts then?"

Genma sits up and shakes his head no. I start to pout, but he stops me with a look. I watch as he gathers up the pile of papers, ordering them in some way, and when he finishes I ask, "Why can't we?"

"Don't you want to do something else?" He asks. I blink, and he continues with, "It's a surprise. Why don't you go get dressed?"

I practically launch myself off the couch and dart down the halls to my room. Surprise is synonymous with gift, most of the time. The last time Genma had a surprise for me, I got _ninja clothes _that made me look like a miniature ninja, sans the headband. If not for the fact that Genma only bought one copy of the outfit, I would wear it every day.

Five minutes later I'm sitting on the edge of Genma's bed, dressed in a wide collared shirt that practically swamps me. The sleeves hug my non existent biceps, and the bottom is tucked messily into the pair of shinobi pants I'm wearing. A hood flaps behind my neck and leaves my neck exposed. While Genma brushes out the tangles in my hair, I play with the stretchy fabric that hugs my calves. When the brush runs through a stubborn knot, I squirm and instinctively grip my hair so that it can't be tugged.

After an _eternity _of brushing, I hop off the bed and sit down in front of the mirror in the hallway. I remove a hair band from my wrist and gather my hair into a ponytail, leaving only my bangs and a few strands by my ears down. I don't do the best job - it's a little crooked and I missed a few strands of hair on the back of my neck - but it is good enough for me. As Genma steps out of his room, dressed in his flack jacket and ninja pants rather than the blue tank top and pants he wears around the apartment, I lean my head back an give him a thumbs up.

I follow him into the kitchen and shadow him as he wraps two bento boxes in the furoshiki - a.k.a, their cloth thing. I rest my chin on the counter top, watching him curiously. We almost never have bento; the only times we do is when we'll be out all day.

"What're we doing?" I ask, when he hands me the smaller one. I hold it by the knot in the cloth, and then when he hands me the second one I repeat the action with my other hand. I wander towards the small backpack by the couch, unzipping it and placing the bento in the pocket.

"Patience," he tells me, as I'm pulling the bag over my shoulders. I let out a sound of displeasure but head towards the door to put my shoes on. By the time I'm back on my feet, squirming uncomfortably in the sandals, Genma is standing outside and waiting for me. I hurry out after him and when the door is locked, he crouches down in front of me.

"Get on." I do so, making sure to wrap my arms around his neck and legs around his torso. When Genma is sure I'm secure, he stands up and we _shoot _into the air.

I can't help screaming, but it dissolves into a fit of giggles as the wind whips past my face. My ponytail and the hood of my shirt flap wildly behind me, and when Genma lands on a roof we shoot back into the air, sending me into another fit.

I press my cheek against my brother's head, watching the village combine into a blur of colours. My face is stretched into a wide grin, and I wrap my legs tighter around Genma's back when I feel like I'm slipping down. My eyes start to water from the wind, but when I unlatch one of my arms to rub them I feel like I'm falling, leading me to wrap it right back around brother's neck.

When we finally land I let out an 'oof', still hanging off my brother. When he nudges me I unwrap myself from his back and fall to the ground. My cheeks are flushed and I'm gasping, but I can't stop smiling.

"That was so _cool!_" I say when Genma turns to me. His senbon clicks against his teeth as he matches my grin with his own. "I want to do that too! Let's do it again!"

Genma laughs. "On our way back." I hop to his side, backpack slapping against the middle of my back as I do so, and when I'm standing beside him I look at where we are. It is a large clearing, with several large char marks and holes in the ground and some log poles. A few of the log poles have targets and kunai stuck into them.

Genma fixes my ponytail for me and I ask, "What're we gonna do?"

When he's redone it and smoothed down the top of my head, he walks towards one of the numerous targets. I scurry after him, nearly tripping in one of the holes and twisting my ankle. When I finally reach him I stop and lean against his side, waiting for him to explain.

And eventually, he does. "Kinuta, welcome to training ground twelve." I look up at him, blinking. When I tug on his arm and ask why we're here, Genma tugs my ponytail and says, "You're going to learn kunai here."

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. When they do, I blink again, looking up at brother, before grinning. "Heck yeah!" I pump my fists into the air as I cheer, unable to contain my excitement. I've been waiting four _years _to learn how to use kunai; four years of constant bugging, four years of being shot down with a "later", or, "not now". Now that the day has finally come, I'm unable to stop myself from bouncing on my heels in excitement.

"You're the best brother ever," I tell Genma as I hug him around his waist and press my face into his stomach. "D'you know that? Well, I guess now you do."

Genma starts to laugh and detach me from around his waist. Then he leads me so that we're maybe three meters between us and the target and sits down. I copy him, and wait patiently for my brother to start talking. I can tell that he's going into what I call _teacher mode._

"First things first is some questions." I hold back a groan, but don't complain yet. I need to see what those questions are before I start whining. "What sort of things could interfere with a kunai hitting its target?"

Immediately I answer. "Um, the wind direction," I raise my thumb, "and also the thrower's grip on the weapon - uh, like, how it holds the handle thing." I raise a second finger, and pause for a brief second to try and think of some more. "And maybe . . . the thrower's stance, how far they extend their elbow when throwing." A third finger. I try to think of more, but pull up a blank.

"Mmh . . . I don't know what else, though . . . " I whine, a bit upset. I lean forward over my legs so that my cheek is pressing against the ground and my arms are tucked in, trying to ignore the distress I'm feeling. I should be able to think of more reasons than that. "Possibly if the thrower misinterprets the distance between them and the target?"

Genma tells me to sit up and when I do he tells me, "Good." The tension in my stomach relieves and I let my shoulders relax when he doesn't get angry. I mean, Genma practically never gets angry at me - especially when it comes to academics -, but old habits die hard, I guess.

My brother removes two kunai from his pouch and hands one over to me. I stare at it, holding it in a weak and uncertain grip, and look up at Genma in confusion. "Just try to hold it how you think you should."

I bite my lip, but do so anyway. I turn the kunai so that it is in the palm of my left hand, and then curl my fingers around the bandaged hilt slowly. It puts a strain on my wrist. I turn my wrist so that the back of my hand is pointing up and the kunai is gripped in my fist. "Um, like this?"

Genma maneuvers my wrist, turning the angle of my elbow and moving my hand further down the weapon. My face flushes in embarrassment, but when Genma finally releases my arm I notice that it doesn't hurt my wrist to hold.

"Keep your elbows like that," he tells me. I look down and take note of the angle it is bent at. "It puts less pressure on your wrist and helps you throw straight."

For the next thirty minutes, Genma helps me to figure out the very basics of kunai throwing. How high to raise your arm when throwing, where to keep your feet, how to turn your body; by the time we've finished just the basic stance on its own my arm aches.

"This is hard," I whine, as I crack my fingers. "I don't get it."

Honestly, this sort of thing is _not_ my forte. I'm a pure mathematical person; calculations, numbers - give me a degree and distance and I could easily figure it out. But hands on things, where math is worthless outside a classroom, are just _hard. _If Genma would just tell me what degree to bend my elbow at, and the exact distance my feet need to be, this would be a lot easier.

But he can't do that, because every ninja's stance differs. A child won't be holding their body the same way an experienced ninja would, because they're still learning. It isn't something they have accepted as second nature yet.

I expected kunai to be a lot easier to use, considering how easily characters in the show use them.

"You've only just started," Genma tells me, frowning. He knows how much of a perfectionist I am. "You can't expect to be perfect at everything."

Bitterly, I think about how prodigies like Kakashi and Itachi probably didn't need help when they started learning to use kunai. I scuff my foot into the ground, kicking up dust, and resist the urge to throw myself on my back and stay there.

"I don't care," I snap, giving into my frustration. "I don't want to do kunai anymore ... I hate it."

Genma sighs, removing his headband so he can run his hand through his hair. "Stop it. You can't just give up when you don't understand something."

I hate to admit it, but for some unknown reason his words make tears brim in the corner of my eyes. When I raise my hands to wipe them away, I hear Genma sigh again and feel him pull me against him in a half hug.

"You know, it took me a year to become decent at throwing kunai." I sniffle and glance up at him as he continues. "The first time I tried, I messed up so badly that I strained a muscle in my shoulder and couldn't do it for three weeks."

That makes a watery laugh bubble from my throat. "But you can spit senbon from your mouth," I say, as my tears stop.

"Yeah, I can." Genma looks down at me. "You don't need to get it perfect the first time to become good."

I lean my head against his side and don't respond. I've stopped crying, but I still don't want to do anymore kunai training. Genma must pick up on my thoughts because he pushes me off him and says, "Why don't we do something else?"

"No weapons," I immediately say, making my brother grin.

"No weapons," he agrees, retying his headband around his head. He picks up my bag from the ground and hands it to me, and when I've got it on my back I take his hand and follow him. We make our ways through a thin amount of trees, and maybe fifteen minutes later we're standing in front of a much larger clearing with no craters and holes in the ground. I drop my bag to the ground, beside Genma, and hop from foot to foot.

I start to ask what we're doing, but my brother shakes his head at me. I stay silent, and maybe a minute later he asks, "How large do you think the circumference of this area is?"

I blink, and take a look around the clearing again. My mind whirls, eyes darting across the clearing and taking in the apparent distance, and maybe half a minute later I guess, "Maybe ... close to three kilometers?"

Genma nods, and I feel a wave of pride go through me. "It's about two and three quarter kilometers." I look at him in curiosity. I doubt he brought me all the way over here to have me estimate the circumference of a training field. "And you're going to run laps around it."

"Huh?" I squeak, caught off guard. I look at his face, hoping to see a teasing grin, but instead I get a amused grin (closer to a smirk, actually, but Genma doesn't smirk at me) that makes me cross my arms. "But ... I can't! That's _sooo _far ... I'll die!"

"Don't be a baby," Genma scolds. I scowl, resisting the urge to start whining. "Do some leg stretches before you start. You don't want to pull a muscle."

With my scowl still in place, I begrudgingly do some simple stretches. It only takes a few minutes, and when I finish I look at Genma and ask, "How many times?"

"As many as you can."

This time, I actually do whine. Loudly. "I don't _want to." _I throw my head back dramatically, and when it drops back, the look Genma sends me makes me freeze in place, complaints stopped in my throat.

Usually, my brother doesn't get mad at me. Most of the time I listen, and Genma is so laid back that it is hard for me to do anything that makes him actually become annoyed or angry. The worst I've ever gotten from him is an annoyed sigh and a warning, and that was only because I attempted to climb the counters and hide in the cupboards to avoid bathing.

I know that the gentleness that he shows me is most likely a side of him that is preserved for me (because he would be a pretty shitty Anbu if he was like this all the time) and only me, and I've always taken advantage of the fact that he's like that. I've taken advantage of how he lets me do pretty much what I want, when I want, without getting more than a gentle chastise for bad behavior.

But for the first time ever, my brother actually looks _irritated_ at me. Not the, 'stop-talking-and-go-to-sleep' irritated, but the 'I'm-getting-tired-of-your-shit' irritated. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes slanted dangerously, and the senbon he's chewing on is unusually still, like he's trying to stop himself from doing or saying something. When he gets up I stumble back, trying to put as much distance between us as possible, but he easily catches my shoulders and stops me. He crouches so he's at my eye level, but his hands don't leave my shoulders. He's gripping them tightly.

"You need to stop," he finally says, in a tone that I've _never _heard before. It renders me speechless. "You've been asking for me to teach you for years now. If you aren't willing to do the work, then I'm _not_ going to take the time to try and teach you."

My stomach tightens, and I blink rapidly when my eyes feel hot. A mix of embarrassment and shame curls in my belly, and I avert my eyes when Genma lets go of my shoulders and stands back up. I don't like the feeling that I've done something wrong and made someone angry. It fills me with guilt and anger at myself.

Angrily, I bite my bottom lip, turn my back to him, and break into a run as I start my lap. My eyes are blurry from tears, but I don't stop running or move to wipe them away. Instead I just focus on my breathing and try to ignore the burning in my legs as the dust of the training ground kicks up under my feet. I can only go a quarter of the way before I have to slow to a walk, fighting back a fit of coughs that are trying to escape. My side is aching and I take a deep breath, counting to sixty before starting back into my run.

Another quarter of the way through my lungs start to burn and I feel like I'm suffocating, so I slow down to a jog and try to even my breathing. The jog becomes a walk, and the walk becomes standing as I bend forward, hands on my thighs, attempting to catch my breath. I count to fifteen, timing my breathing with each number, and try to ignore the burn that goes through me with each breath. After fifteen seconds I've stabilized my breathing enough so that I don't feel like I'm dying.

When I finally am back on the side I started from, I'm gasping and red faced, strands of hair sticking to my face. I slow down as I get close to Genma, intending to stand in front of him and say nothing, only to have my foot slip and send me face first into the ground. When I push myself up gravel is stuck to my arms and Genma is crouched beside me.

Instead of saying anything I give him a mean look and rest my cheek on my arms, not bothering to get up. Beside me I hear Genma sigh before he grabs my hood and lifts me up off the ground. I let him brush off the gravel and tiny rocks stuck to my face, not looking him in the eye, and cross my arms over my chest when he finishes.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" I stick my tongue out at him instead of replying. This causes him to chuckle. "Come on, let's eat."

* * *

><p>Every day leading up to the academy early entrance exams, Genma has forced me to run laps around the training ground. He decided to leave kunai training to the academy, thankfully.<p>

It's amazing how quickly my endurance for running has grown. I can almost do two full laps before I need to stop, though I run sort of slow. I tried to speed up my pace by channeling chakra into my legs, but I must have messed up somewhere because I ended up collapsing and unable to move my legs for nearly half an hour. When I told Genma, his eyebrows just furrowed in thought before he told me not to try that again.

The day of the exam, I'm up at probably six in the morning. Usually I sleep until at least eight, but I'm so nervous that I can't help but wake up early despite the fact that I'm still tired. Obviously Genma is already awake (he seems to wake up at five every day for some obscene reason), and when I pad into the living room with my hair sticking up at weird angles Genma lets me lean against his shoulder as I wake up.

"Morning sunshine," he mutters, petting down my flyaway hair. I hum in response, too sleepy to really respond. My head droops forward, eyes slipping shut, and I snap it back up and blink a few times.

I yawn, using his shoulder as a pillow, and reach for the mug of coffee my brother is holding. He lets me take it, and I hold it between my hands and let the steam warm my face. When I lift it to my mouth to take a sip, Genma takes it back from me with a simple, "Not now." I look up at him before sighing and heading off to brush my teeth. I am not a morning person.

When I return my brother has moved into the kitchen and is sitting at the table. I pull back my chair so that I'm sitting as well, and stretch my arms across the table to stretch my back. I yawn again, letting my cheek rest on the cool surface of the table.

"Why don't you go back to bed?" Genma asks. "The tests don't start until nine."

I don't move as I talk. "I can't." Blowing out a breath, I continue with, "'M nervous."

My brother makes a noise in the back of his throat. "You'll be fine."

Without really meaning to, I end up dozing off at the table, though I jerk awake when I hear a very _loud _pounding on the front door. Nearly falling out of my seat in surprise, I glance around in search for Genma. When I don't see him and the pounding continues, I force myself out of the chair and over to the front door, dragging my feet the entire way. When I swing it open, I freeze in place.

I don't know what I was expecting to be there, but what I see makes me contemplate slamming the door shut and pretending I never opened it. A very _tall _man, dressed in green spandex and sporting a perfectly straight bowl cut stands right in front of the apartment door, looking completely out of place. I glance behind me, looking for my brother and possibly forcing him to deal with the man in front of me, but he's still out of sight.

So I just return my gaze to the man and swallow back a grimace. Might Guy, future sensei of Team Guy, gives me a very _bright _grin when he sees my befuddled expression.

"Good morning! How youthful to see such a young child up so early - "

As rude as it is, I can't help but slam the door and dead bolt it as quickly as I can. When I hear a muffled shout of, "Such speed, how astoundingly youthful!" I turn on my heel and _run._

Well, actually, I trip over the step leading into the actual house, get up, and _then _run. When I turn the corner and my back is against a wall, I let out a shaky breath of terror, ignoring the steady trickle of blood dripping down my face from when I fell. Holy shit.

I slide down the wall, eyes darting around for any sign of Genma. Though the pounding and shouting has stopped, I just know that Gai is still there. I get up, opening each door until I reach Genma's. My free hand cups my nose, catching the blood so that it doesn't stain the floor, and when I creak it open my brother's room find it to be empty.

"Genma!" I whisper yell, hoping that he's just in the bathroom. I'm afraid if I speak too loud the beast outside will hear me. "Genma!"

I hear a muffled noise to the right, but before I can turn to look an arm is looped around my waist and I'm tugged into the laundry room. I open my mouth to yell, but am stopped when I hear my brother "shh" me from behind. I glance over my head and realize that the arm around my waist belongs to him, and relax just a tiny bit.

"Genma, there's a monster outside," I whisper, clinging to him with my free hand. I think the blood has stopped, but I keep my hand cupped around my nose in case it hasn't.

Genma keeps me close to him, looking somewhat distressed himself. "Just pretend we're not here."

I swallow. "But, he _saw _me. He knows I'm here."

My brother actually groans. I hear him mutter a quiet, "dammit all", before opening the laundry door and helping me climb out with him. He notices the blood dripping between my fingers and leads me into the bathroom before heading to the front door. I wash my hands under the faucet and wet some tissues so I can wipe away the blood on my face.

I practically fall off the stool when I hear a boisterous yell from the living room. "Genma! You are looking as youthful as ever!"

I turn off the water and dry my hands before creeping back towards the living room despite all my instincts telling me to go back into the laundry closet and hide. Gai is standing in the entrance way, talking to Genma. I hear my brother say, "You're looking lively as well, Gai," in such a nonchalant tone that you would've never guessed he was hiding from the man a minute ago.

"Oh, my new morning regimen must be paying off then!" He gives a thumbs up, his teeth shining brightly. "You should join me my friend!"

Seeing as I haven't even started trying to master silent walking, my entrance into the living room catches both their attentions. I shrink back towards my room when Gai looks at me, but freeze in place when his grin grows, feeling like a deer caught in front of a car.

_Just stay still, Kinuta. Maybe if you don't move he won't see you._

"Ah, this must be your younger sister!" Genma nods, and Gai continues with, "Quite a youthful child - the speed in which she slammed the door - "

I cut him off with a shaky, "Uhm, Genma ... " when my plan to stay still and be ignored doesn't work. I wrack my brains for some excuse to change the topic. "I'm hungry."

That seems to set off a trigger in Genma's mind because his eyes spark with something and he says to Gai, "Kinuta is taking the academy exam today."

Somehow, Gai seems to grow even _more _excited, and if possible he would probably be vibrating in place. "Incredible - how old is she, my friend; five? I'm sure she will be the best in her class if she's your sister!"

"Um, I'm six," I correct him, playing with my hair. It hasn't been cut yet and it is starting to bother me. Gai starts to say something, both Genma cuts him off before he can.

"Yes, I'm sure she will do very well, Gai."

Gai "hmm's" to himself. "Well, then I shall leave you and your sister to get ready for the day!" I try to hide my sigh of relief when Gai turns to look at me. "Kinuta, good luck! I am sure your youthfulness will help you persevere and succeed in the academy!"

"And Genma, feel free to join me any morning for my new regimen - training ground nine and four AM is when I start!"

"Yeah, I'll think about it." Genma raises a hand in goodbye, and Gai speeds off. When the door closes, I collapse over the arm of the couch and wheeze. As Genma walks past me he taps the back of my head twice. "Next time, don't answer the door."

From my spot on the couch, I reply, "But I didn't know," but because my face is smushed into the cushions it comes out as a bunch of unintelligible sounds.

By now it is nearly seven. Genma wants us to arrive at the academy at 08:30, which gives me a little less than an hour and a half to eat, get dressed, and do some last minute cramming before the test. As I roll off the couch, hitting the floor rather hard, I yell, "I want egg!" to Genma before getting to my feet and darting to my room.

I strip out of my pajamas and yank open my bottom drawer. It's the middle of March, so I remove the spandex shorts from my drawer. They reach almost to my knees and are more comfortable than the pants I have, so I'm willing to deal with the fact that they're out of season. I toss them onto my bed and close the bottom drawer with my foot while opening a higher one. I remove the red and white 'dress' from the drawer and after I've pulled on the black shorts I unzip it and pull it over my head while walking out of my room. I stop in front of the mirror in the hallway to adjust it.

The sleeves are wide near my shoulders, but by the time they stop at my elbow they're rather form fitting. The collar is loose enough that I can breath without having to tug on it.

I do a little twirl, watching the fabric in the mirror, before grinning at my reflection and running into the kitchen.

"Do my hair for me," I say to Genma when I pop up beside him in the kitchen. He swats me away from the counter so I puff my cheeks out and move to the living room. My kana books are still sprawled out across the work table, so as I sit down on one of the cushions, I grab my pencil and continue where I left off.

I'm tracing _'wo_' for the fourth time when I'm lifted up and away from the work table. I squeak, flailing around in an attempt to get my feet back on the ground. When I almost successfully headbutt him, Genma lets me down and tells me to come eat.

"Thanks for the food," I chime, as I remove a pair of chopsticks from the drawer. When I actually sit down, Genma uses the serving chopsticks to place some of the omelet onto my plate, and I immediately stuff one into my mouth, grinning.

Eggs are good. Omelets are better. Genma puts vegetables inside the egg mix before cooking it into omelet, so rather than having an overwhelming taste of vegetables, it blends in nicely with the egg. Still chewing I put my chopsticks down and walk over to the fridge, taking the milk out. Genma gets up when I attempt to scale the counters for a cup to make sure I don't break anything.

A minute later we're back at the table, with milk to go with the omelet. Other than the occasional scold I get from Genma ("You're holding the chopsticks wrong") we're silent while eating. It is only when I'm finished with my milk that I let out a sigh and stretch my back before picking up my plate and bringing it over to the sink.

"Don't put the leftovers down the drain," Genma reminds me. I nod and make sure that I throw out the leftovers before climbing the stool and running the plate under hot water.

Genma always serves me more food than I can eat, but thankfully he never forces me to eat it all. Of course, that has led to me being as skinny as a twig and, despite all the milk I drink, shorter than most six year old kids, but there's not much I can do about that.

I go back to the work table and wait for Genma to finish his food. Instead of working on my vocabulary though, I start to doodle in the margins of the book. I rest my cheek on my right arm and watch myself draw. The doodles eventually turn into scribbles and crooked lines as time goes on.

I hear the clinking of dishes in the kitchen and look up right when Genma sits behind me. I tip my head back to look at him, and pull on the senbon in his mouth.

"Is the inside sharp?" I ask. I've wondered for awhile how he doesn't poke himself in the mouth.

Genms moves my hand away from the weapon. "Not really." He's brushing out my hair with the hairbrush we keep nearby. I squirm as he tugs out a knot that is close to the back of my neck, and my hand shoots back to protect the vulnerable area.

He ignores my hand and keeps brushing. When the knot is finally out I retract it, and lean back against him with a sigh. The brushing is soothing in the same way my brother running his fingers through my hair is soothing.

As I stare up at the ceiling and as Genma works out the knots in my hair, a feeling of unease settles in my stomach. Though I've been studying my weak spots for awhile now, I can't help but worry that I'll mess up on the exam. As Genma places the hairbrush down and draws my hair back into a ponytail, I ask, "Will you be mad if I don't make it in?"

There's a short period of silence that makes me squirm. My brother's hands have paused, and I twist to look at him, pulling my hair out of his hands. I meet his gaze with my nervous one and blink a few times. When I open my mouth to ask again, he cuts me off by tugging me into an awkward hug. I lean against him, listening to the clinking of the senbon against his teeth as he says, "No." I sigh in relief, but he continues with, "I'll just make you run double laps."

"Huuh?" I protest, squirming out of his hug. "That's unfair."

Genma ruffles my hair, messing it back up, and I can't help but smile.

"Life isn't fair." I stand up when Genma finishes tying my hair up. Slowly I nod, because he's right; life _isn't _fair. If it was, I wouldn't have been reincarnated into the Naruto world. As we get our shoes on, I find myself feeling nervous again. When Genma locks the front door, I grab his hand tightly, causing him to look down at me.

"Don't worry," I hear him say in a reassuring, yet lazy tone. "You'll do fine. The exam isn't hard anyways."

I hope he's right.

* * *

><p>As it turns out, Genma was right. The exam - if it can even be called that - was laughably easy. Basically, there was a little written test that asked for each kanji to be linked to its hiragana, and then asked for common usages of that kanji in everyday life. Then, underneath, we were told to write a very short answer to the question, '<em>Are you willing to become a defender of the village?'.<em>

After that was some basic questions ('_What is shinobi rule number 8?' _and, '_What was the name of the second Hokage?') _that took me more time to figure out how to write than to actually figure out the answer, and one question asking us to identify the Land of Fire on a map. That was the only one that gave me a little bit of trouble, since the map wasn't labeled with any names.

There was absolutely no math. No, 'calculate the trajectory of a kunai when thrown from ...' or 'find the likelihood of a ninja standing at 158 cm high striking an enemy eight meters ahead with a wind current of ...', though I guess it wouldn't make sense to have problems like that on an exam given to children under the age of eight.

When I finished it, I actually felt disappointed. I spent _all _that time studying only to be extremely underwhelmed by the exam. When we're dismissed from the testing area, many of the kids run over to their parents, making a big fuss over something. I stretch my arms over my head, yawning, and looking for my brother in the crowd. It doesn't take me long to find him, and by the time I've skipped over to him, his hands are in his pockets and he's looking at me expectantly.

"It was super easy," I tell him, a smile on my face. He matches it with his own grin. "I did all that studying for nothing."

"Well," he starts, as we head off from the Academy, "we'll just have to see if you did as well as you think you did."

Later that night, after throwing all of the kana books into my closet to rot until classes actually begin, I stretch out on my bed and stare up at the ceiling. In seven years, everything is going to start. In less than eight years, the third Hokage will be dead. I roll onto my side, breathing out my nose as my chest grows tight from that thought. It's amazing how fast four years has passed - it's like I fell asleep a toddler, and woke up almost seven years old. I didn't see any canon characters in the testing hall, so that must mean that I'm a grade ahead of them.

If I'm a grade ahead of them, then maybe I'll be able to avoid getting swept into the main plot. That would be nice - avoiding that mess will probably extend my life expectancy to sixteen years old. The same age I was when I died in my last life.

I hug my bear and pull the heavy comforter over my head. Breath in, breath out. Everything is going to be OK.

With my bear tucked underneath the blankets with me and my mind playing with 'what-ifs', I manage to find a soothing in between realm of comforting silence that lulls me asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Wow, two chapters in less than a week. I think that's a new record for me.**

**Kinuta's academy years are going to be a lot longer than her toddler and pre - Academy years, just so you know. There's only so much you can write about a child who does almost nothing all day before it becomes monotonous and boring.**

**A little extra information, since I don't want to give anyone the wrong idea; Genma's reaction to Gai isn't supposed to point at him disliking him. It's more like, Genma can't deal with the exuberance of Gai before seven in the morning. **

**Sorry for any grammar/spelling errors, I typed this in a day. Be proud of me (even though I am a bit iffy about this chapter).**

**Thanks for reading.**


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